Galbatorix's Fall
by TheWildMage
Summary: This is how I think Empire, the third book will play out. It begins with a look at Roran's fiancee, held captive in Helgrind...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Katrina opened her eyes. Where _was_ she? Looking around, the room—was it a room?—glowed faintly with a light from a single pool of slow-burning oil in the center of the floor. The ceiling was high and littered with stalactites, but the room was clear of any stalagmites. The air reeked of fetid carcasses and years old kills, but she couldn't discern the source. The walls themselves had a deceiving look to them, but she couldn't pinpoint why.

Attempting to get a better view of her surroundings, she tried to turn her head, but winced when pain roared to life in her neck and shoulders. How long had she been asleep to merit such stiffness? When had she fallen asleep, anyway?

With a jolt, she sat straight up, all her senses alert for her gated kidnappers, those named the Ra'zac. Her muscles ached with disuse, and cried out that she allow herself to relax into her former position, but she refused. Carelessness could kill her, for the stealth with which the Ra'zac moved was deadly, and you often didn't know they were there until they were upon you, and it was too late. Katrina quieted her breathing, and strained her hearing to its limits. There was a faint rasping off to her left somewhere! She twisted her torso ever so slightly, and was able to determine the source: her father.

_Traitor!_ her mind screamed. _The filthy blood-traitor turned me over to our own _predators. _He may be my father, but he isn't my ally. _She shifted her weight, and found that her feet were bound with a thin cord, which meant that her hands were probably tied, also. Her captors had not thought to gag her, but Katrina decided against making any undue noise for the moment—she would learn more before acting on anything. She wriggled closer to her father; then thrust her shoulder at him. He merely slumped over, uttering a soft groan. Her eyebrows knit in thought as she contemplated the implications of this.

She was trapped in an unknown place with her father, who was incapable of responding. That could mean that he was hurt and beyond answering her, or that he was drugged. Either way, they were probably both tied up, and therefore the Ra'zac feared that they could escape, if given the chance. Absence of a gag indicated that no one was close enough to answer calls for help, so they were very isolated.

A symphony of clicks from somewhere behind her meant that the Ra'zac were near. Quickly, she sagged back into the position she woke up in, feigning sleep. The clicks stopped, and Katrina felt the vibrations their feet made in the floor as they drew nearer. _There are two of them,_ she thought. One halted, and the second continued until it had planted itself in front of her.

"We know you're awake," a smooth voice whispered in her ear. The stench of its breath made her choke, and her eyelids lifted to gaze into two blank orbs over a hooked beak. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out, but this _thing_ created a fear in her like she hadn't imagined possible. Somehow, Katrina didn't think that now would be the time to insult her host. _I'll just bide my time,_ she assured herself. _Then, it's payback._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry it took so long, but between moving, finals week, and our spring musical, I didn't have time to write… I plan on updating much more often in the future. So, here it is:

Instead, she fought against her instincts to look the creature in the eyes and say something intelligent back to it. It turned into a blink when she found that her mind had gone almost numb. _What's wrong with me?_ The query went unanswered, but the foul Ra'zac smiled cruelly.

"I can smell your fear," he hissed. Katrina wasn't how the beast managed speech with its awkward beak, but didn't doubt that it could indeed tell that she was afraid. She didn't reply. "We are not to kill you, but that won't keep us from roughing you up a bit," he—she—it—continued, tilting its head to one side, considering something gruesome, no doubt. Katrina felt a shudder travel down the length of her spine involuntarily, but remained silent. Her mental faculties weren't functioning coherently, but she had a vague sense that talking would only cause her further trouble.

Turning suddenly, the Ra'zac drew a thin blade from the hilt on its belt, and whipped it through the air quicker than the eye could follow, stopping to rest on Sloan's neck. Despite her loathing for her father at the moment, Katrina drew in a sharp breath. He _was_ her father, after all. Her captor held the blade steady as Sloan opened his eyes groggily. He blinked lazily, then stiffened as he recognized the creature before him.

"Now look—"

The Ra'zac made another lightening-fast pass, and before he could finish a sentence, blood began dribbling down his greasy forehead and cheeks. The deadly weapon was now drawing a light but slow and long scratch across his throat. Sloan froze.

"While you obey us, you shall come to little harm," it murmured in that awful, oily voice. "Disobey, and you shall earn more than a few scars." The blade bit a bit deeper, then retreated.

The Ra'zac began to leave, but the one who'd stayed near the door behind them paused for a moment to say, "Food will be sent shortly." As its shadow slid away into darkness, silence reigned.

At last, Sloan broke it by saying: "I didn't know this would happen."

Katrina didn't move from her position.

"I'm sorry," he said after a few seconds pause. Katrina huffed in response. "Listen to me when I tell you that I only wanted your safety when I agreed to let them take us from Carvahall. I didn't ever want for you to come to harm. That Roran—"

"Roran loved me," Katrina spat angrily. She twisted to get a better view of her father, wincing at her soreness. "That's something you never could get your head around, could you?"

Sloan's face darkened with anger. "He was a poor farm boy without a cent to his name and a head full of bad notions. I won't have you throwing away your life on the likes of him!"

Katrina bit her lip in frustration. _If he could see Roran the way I do, we would see eye to eye, I'm sure._ She instead decided to let her father go unchallenged until she had something concrete to combat him with. Until then, all she could do was wait.

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Eragon was tired. He'd spent the past few days pouring over scrolls about the Ra'zac and Helgrind, trying to gather as much information on his foes as he could before he and Roran attempted to rescue Katrina from her kidnappers. Though he'd come up with some interesting folklore about Helgrind, the Ra'zac themselves remained much a mystery. Most people didn't interact with the race, and those who did seldom told about their experiences.

On top of studying, he'd also been pouring much of his energy into Nasuada's lace-making business. After Murtagh stole Zar'roc and the belt, he'd found himself without an extra source of power or a weapon. With everyone in Surda struggling to survive, he refused to put more stress on their treasuries by accepting charity—he was going to _buy _his own things, now. While both Nasuada and King Orrin had protested that he needn't go to such lengths, Eragon couldn't help but wonder where the gold would come from to fuel such expenses. Saphira easily drained two barrels of mead after the battle was over, he had to have food, and they both had armor that needed to be taken care of—it saddened his heart that Garrow's nephew would accept so much and do so little in return.

_You might want to come to the courtyard,_ Saphira said, interrupting the silence he'd grown to love after the hue and cry of the battles.

_Thank you,_ he whispered back. _What's going on?_

_You'll see,_ she answered coyly. Eragon smiled. This was bound to be interesting.

When he arrived, he discovered that the courtyard was in complete disarray. Benches were overthrown, flowerbeds torn up, and an arm on a statue of an ancient scholar turned up missing. Servants flocked in the center, atwitter with gossip, and Saphira was crouched in the shade of a massive tree with and expression of curiosity on her features.

_What happened here? _Eragon asked.

_Elva,_ Saphira responded simply. _I'm not sure what possessed her, but she suddenly started ripping everything to shreds, and generally wreaking havoc. She's underneath my wings, if you want to talk to her._

Disbelievingly, Eragon strode over as Saphira lifted one massive wing. Elva was digging into a platter of venison with gusto, but stopped politely to stare at the Rider's approach.

"What is this all about?" Eragon queried.

"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out," she sneered back at him. "As a Rider, you're supposed to be off saving the weak, right now. But, because you're also smart, you know better than to dash off right after doing battle without the least bit of knowledge about what you're facing. You're doing the right thing, putting off the rescue mission."

Eragon sighed. "You're avoiding the question."

"I suppose I should tell you," She voiced noncommittally. "You see, there's going to be a fire set in your room, and it will consume most of the wing in about four minutes, now. I just got everyone out safely, so no one will get hurt."

_And she considers that a good reason to destroy the courtyard?! _Eragon vented to Saphira. Out loud, he exclaimed, "What good will that accomplish?"

"That was good of you to keep your temper. I appreciate it," Elva mocked. "It would be better if the courtyard were in tatters when it burns, however, so that when the arsonists try to escape on the _Lethrblaka_ that will be landing here shortly, they won't be able to institute the getaway plan they've concocted."

"There are adult Ra'zac coming to Surda, and you didn't tell us?!" yelled Eragon. What came over her?

"This way, we'll be able to lure them into the trap we've set," Elva explained calmly. She couldn't resist the meat in front of her any longer, and attacked the food once more. In between bites, she expanded on it, saying, "There are archers concealed in the new nooks and crannies I've created with my, well, destruction. You might recognize the servants milling around as soldiers who fought along side you a few days ago, and members of Du Vangr Gata are stationed in the towers not connected to the wing you were in. A few guardsmen are ready to take care of the arsonists, and Trianna has cooked up an illusion that the palace is burning. Everything is under control."

"And why wasn't I clued into all of these plans?" Eragon demanded.

_Peace,_ Saphira intervened. _I was the one who decided to keep you in the dark. You needed rest, and telling you what was going to happen would only add to your stress. _

_And you don't think that the _Lethrblaka_ will be deterred by a giant blue lizard sitting where they're planning to land? _he asked sarcastically.

_I'm not visible from the sky, _she replied. _The _Lethrblaka_ have poor daytime vision, from what you've found in your reading, so they won't even notice me until I'm upon them._

Eragon had to admit that it appeared as though they had everything worked out to a tee. But, still sore over not being clued in, he opened his mouth to speak to Elva again when flames began rising from the palace wall.

He instinctively swung up so that he was on top of Saphira's back, and reached out with his mind to his surroundings. The fire was phantasmal, and he saw Trianna concentrating on an image in her mind, tucked safely away in a tower. All of the archers had arrows knocked, but their bows were resting against a knee or thigh, having no target yet.

The flames grew higher, and he could feel heat coming from the illusion—it was quite impressive. Eragon reached further into the palace and found the arsonists bound in a neat pile circled by a dozen or so palace guards, not sure of what was going on outside.

A sudden cry brought bows up, sighting the two black shapes descending rapidly from the heavens. Also, men tied clothes over their mouths, though Eragon couldn't figure out why. He asked Saphira.

_The Ra'zac and Lethrblaka have breath that fogs over the mind, remember?" _she supplied.

_Of course, thank you," _Eragon replied. He quietly murmured in the ancient language, "Let the air that I breathe be clean and pure," then turned his attention to the two creatures only a few yards off the ground.

An unspoken signal brought forth a volley of arrows, and the Lethrblaka screeched their displeasure. They attempted to take to the air once more, but a magical barrier appeared over the courtyard. Amazed, Eragon looked to the members of Du Vangr Gata, and saw that they were behind this maneuver, Trianna included. There was no need for the fire as bait, so it had been discarded. Eragon replenished her strength with some of what he had left, then did the same for some of the others who were fading, then asked Saphira what they should be doing.

_Waiting is all we can do right now,_ she said. _After the Lethrblaka are thoroughly confused and battered by the archers, we can have at them with magic and _fire. She was still proud of her ability, and enjoyed using it whenever possible.

Eragon nodded and settled into the hollow in Saphira's back, watching the Varden's men beat the Lethrblaka back. The creatures, now aware that they were under attack, were making valiant attacks back at the swordsman that had come to hack at their legs. _This has to be stopped, _Eragon thought to Saphira. He reached past the mental barrier on his magic and prepared to blind the Lethrblaka, but Saphira stopped him.

_No,_ she warned. _You're too weak, and blinding them will take a fair amount of energy. They don't see well anyway, so it would be a useless gesture. _She had a point, so Eragon relented, though the men were getting battered in their efforts.

The battle began to turn as the arrows were spent and the swordsmen grew fatigued, and Eragon noticed that Du Vangr Gata, who had let the barrier keeping the enemy in fall to protect everyone from injury, had now redoubled the strength poured into the magical barrier. This had to be their cue.

Saphira arched her neck and let out a steady stream of fire directed at the Lethrblaka's heads, giving the men time to retreat. Eragon thrust his own strength into the barrier at the instant the two snapped their wings open to carry them into the air and escape. The impact stunned Eragon momentarily, but he didn't let the flow of magic stop. Saphira leapt from her hiding spot to get a better angle on the beasts, jolting Eragon for a minute, but held fast. The archers, equipped with more arrows, fired away at the exposed wings, piercing them like they were made of mere tissue rather than powerful muscle. The Lethrblaka dropped to the ground, almost on top of Saphira, and began their onslaught. They circled her, keeping on opposite sides so that she could only see one at a time. She directed the fire at the one in front of her, but kept her mind focused on the one in back so that she wouldn't be surprised by an assault. Worried, Eragon broke the link to the barrier and twisted to keep an eye on the second Lethrblaka. He tried to pry into the thing's mind, but its mental armor proved to be well fortified. He continued prodding it, murmuring "Lightning," in the Ancient Language under his breath. A ball of lightning sprung into being, and hurled itself at the creature. It dodged the missile deftly, but the moment's distraction allowed Eragon entrance to its mind. He selected one of the killing words, and it dropped.

He turned back to face the remaining Lethrblaka, and found that it was raked with claw marks. Saphira had been lashing out at it this entire time, and he hadn't realized it! Hot blood oozed from wounds of her own, however, and the sight gave Eragon the adrenaline rush to repeat the lightning stunt with this one. The Lethrblaka was prepared for this, though, and didn't let its mental barrier waver for a second. Eragon berated himself for forgetting that the Lethrblaka were as intelligent as dragons, and continued looking for ways to demolish his foe. Suddenly, the beast reared up and launched itself over Saphira to land on her other side. She was ungainly on the ground, and it took her a second to maneuver into a better position, but it was enough time to let the Lethrblaka slash a large rent in her hide. Saphira let out a roar and stamped a foot on the ground. Tremors tore up the ground where her foot hit, and traveled to the Lethrblaka. It appeared to unnerve it, and Eragon slipped into its mind to kill it. The Lethrblaka fell to the ground, dead.

Eragon tumbled from Saphira's back to gaze upon the damage they'd caused. The Lethrblaka he'd slain first had a larger body than the second, and its oddly proportioned forelegs stuck out at weird angles on the ground. The second sported bad burns all over its body.

_You fought wonderfully,_ Eragon said, praising Saphira.

_You, also, _ she replied, swinging her massive head around to look her Rider in the eyes. _We must keep in mind what transpired today when we go to Helgrind._

_You _had_ to bring that up, didn't you?_

_I couldn't let you get _too _pleased with yourself._


	3. Chapter 3

Eragon laughed, turning to press his face against Saphira's warm foreleg. _You know, every time I dare to think I know you, you end up surprising me. How did you cause that tremor?_

_I don't know,_ Saphira said wistfully. _It's a good trick though; don't you think?_ She shifted her weight to her other side; then said, _We have company._

Eragon straightened, and welcomed their visitors. "Hello Nasuada; Your Majesty." He bowed to each of them, and relayed Saphira's own greetings.

"That was masterful, a few minutes ago," King Orrin commended with a healthy pat on Eragon's shoulder. "It's a pity that Arya wasn't here to help, though."

"Oh, yes," Eragon replied stiffly. He'd forgotten for the moment that Arya had departed for Ellesmera only two days previously. _She's probably leagues away by now._ He'd been far too tired to scry her of late, and hoped she remained in good health.

"So, what do you think about the Lethrblaka?" Nasuada asked casually. Her direct gaze spoke of just how important the information was. Depending on how difficult the Lethrblaka were to defeat, it could affect the plans they made for rescuing Katrina, and, if he survived, Sloan.

"They're cunning, I'll give them that," Eragon answered gruffly. "Their mental armor is impressive, and kind of alien. It seems smooth and seamless, but stick like burrs, if that makes any sense. They are not to be underestimated, that's for sure."

Nasuada nodded curtly, and stepped closer. "Will you require any assistance in your upcoming mission?"

"I doubt that," Eragon said confidently. "They're tough, but not unmanageable." The words felt dry in his mouth, and he couldn't really say that he trusted them. Still, he didn't want any more people involved in the business than necessary.

"Enough of the serious talk, now," Orrin cut in. "I won't leave the courtyard in shambles for long, so we should either make way for the servants, or start tidying up. As it happens, I've come up with a new chemical that I'd like to try out on the debris. I'll go fetch it." With that, he left.

Nasuada shrugged, and bent to pick up a branch that fell during the skirmish. "He does have a point," she offered in explanation. "You are free to leave, if you want. I know that you must be exhausted after this afternoon, on top of preparing to depart for Dras Leona."

"No," Eragon declined, shaking his head. "This mess won't go anywhere if we don't all pitch in." He helped Nasuada lift the fallen limb, and carried it out. _This is going to take a while,_ he mumbled to Saphira.

_That may be true, but it's a nice change of pace, don't you think?_

Eragon grinned._ Aye, that it is._

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Roran was beginning to get a headache.

If it wasn't one thing, it was another, and he was tiring of the constant bickering and complaints that everyone brought before him. It wasn't that he disliked sorting out the problems that the people of Carvahall had, but they were so small and insignificant, at times! Yes, he may have had to do something more important at the time, but he helped Lynafell rescue her doll from the depths of a well. He needed rest, but that didn't stop him from traipsing through a field in pursuit of a runaway goat belonging to Jaerie. Not surprisingly, he hadn't refused aid to old Gertrude in moving a monstrous pot up to her quarters on the third floor.

In fact, that was why he was late to get out to the courtyard to battle the Lethrblaka, along with every other able-bodied man. He'd arrived after hearing shouts and cries coming from that direction. Gasping for air after rushing through the palace, and leaning against the doorframe for support, he'd watched Eragon slay the creature circling him and Saphira menacingly. The first beast was already lying dead on the ground, though how anyone brought the ungainly thing down baffled him.

When Eragon brought down his foe, it seemed instantaneous. Saphira sent an earthquake towards it, and a muscle twitched in his cousin's face. The Lethrblaka dropped like a stone.

Eragon's power secretly scared Roran. Magic had been known to corrupt those who used it—look at King Galbatorix, or Shades—and the fact that the same force manifested itself in the person he'd resided with for most of his life unnerved him. _If I had power like that,_ he'd often think to himself on lonely nights. Though it frightened him, he still yearned to have a weapon that could do his bidding so easily. _Not even the Ra'zac could beat me._

Roran hadn't originally seen why Eragon needed so much time in preparation. In his mind, they would have easy access to their lair from Saphira's back, and they would storm in with swords drawn, slaying all those who dared keep him from Katrina. Gallantly, he'd rescue his love from the clutches of their enemies, then fly away to freedom after slaughtering the Ra'zac and their steeds. Of course, they'd have had help from the armies at the Varden's disposal, which would make it that much easier.

Now, after seeing the Varden operating for the past few days, he knew better. No help could be spared to rescue Katrina and her father, though it may have aided in wiping out an enemy. There was simply too much to be done close to home, and everyone was still cleaning up from the battle at the Burning Plains. So, it would be just Saphira, Eragon, and himself, flying off to Helgrind. In fact, Helgrind itself was another major reason they couldn't take extra help: it was simply too forbidding. When he finally learned what it was, he saw that it couldn't be penetrated from the ground, and they would need to attack it from the air, which meant that not many people could go, since Saphira could only take so many people. After discussing his original plan with Eragon, he pointed out that stealth would be much better than charging in with battle cries, for the Ra'zac would far out number them on their own turf, and they were formidable enough already. When Roran asked why he couldn't simply kill them with magic, Eragon explained how he had to break through the mental defense anyone put up before he could kill them, which posed another obstacle in the plan. Altogether, it was confusing.

Now, the Ra'zac had come to Surda, to eradicate everyone within range. Well, not the Ra'zac specifically, but the Lethrblaka, their parents. It seemed that for once, King Galbatorix wanted humans atop the foul creatures. Nasuada formulated a defense against the attack, and explained every part in detail to all present. Eragon missed the meeting, but Roran noticed that Saphira was present, and assumed that she would relay everything to her Rider telepathically. The shock from seeing a living, fire-breathing, intelligent dragon in their midst had finally begun to subside, but he remained in awe of her. What he wouldn't give to have a dragon of his own…

Roran cleared his head of these thoughts; he had to help clean up the courtyard. He trotted over next to his cousin and waited for him to acknowledge his presence. Eragon was silent; Roran presumed he was in conversation with Saphira. Still, he waited patiently, hefting a large portion of rock onto a pile. As he passed the time, he observed the courtyard. No one was killed, though one or two men suffered burns from Saphira's fire, and several others had wounds. The trees and flowerbeds took most of the damage, with trees missing limbs and beds swept clear; in actuality, the walls hadn't been damaged as much, because the arrows merely ricocheted off an embedded themselves harmlessly in the ground or broke.

"I wouldn't put that rock on that mound," Eragon advised. Roran looked up, startled by his cousin's sudden speech. "That one's for decoration. We're only putting organic things on that heap, to burn them later tonight."

"Oh, thanks." Still flustered, Roran couldn't think of much else to say. "I'm sorry I didn't help fight much," he tried.

"It's no problem," Eragon replied. "We managed just fine. I'm sure you were off keeping everyone from killing each other in their new homes." He said it with a smile. "Nasuada spends more time than she'd like doing just that. It seems stressfull."

"I was lugging Gertrude's pot into her new room," Roran explained.

_Learn to delegate these tasks,_ Saphira suggested. _You've had much on your plate, and the people of Carvahall need to learn to be independent. You should gently tell them to work out their own problems, since you will soon be leaving, and unable to look after these newborn kittens. _

"I'm sure they can take care of themselves," Roran started. "And they're certainly not kittens. They're just—battered. By what we've been through."

"Saphira has a point, you know," Eragon said. Apparently, Saphira projected her voice so both of them could understand her. "Why don't you hold a meeting, and work something out between them all." His idea had merit, all right.

All at once, everyone's heads snapped up as a shriek rang through the palace.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thought that sprung to Eragon's mind was to run into the palace and figure out what had happened. He promptly dropped the log he'd been carrying and dashed out to save the day—or, rather, he _tried_ to. Saphira hooked him around the chest with a massive claw and drew him in close to her before he could get anywhere.

_What was _that _for? _Eragon spluttered angrily in his mind.

_You've had enough adventuring for one day,_ Saphira scolded gently.

But they— 

_The soldiers and guards, who were standing by, waiting to take over if the original ones began to falter, are probably already there,_ Saphira explained patiently. _You are worn out by the preparations to go to Helgrind, and you've exhausted yourself further with this battle. Rest. Let others take care of this._

_Still, I wish I knew what was happening, _Eragon muttered, sulking.

Saphira made her peculiar rumbling sound in her throat that served as laughter, and said playfully, _You need to be in the middle of everything to be happy, don't you?_

_Yes. _More laughter.

Eragon craned his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of the goings on in the palace, but whatever was happening was out of sight. He fingered the hilt of the sword he'd been given until he could outfit himself with one of his own, edgy. Just because Saphira forbade him to seek out a fight didn't mean that he should let his guard down—it could move outside, and Eragon would have to defend himself, whatever _it _was.

"Do you think we should bother trying to keep out of the flower beds?" Roran gasped as he struggled under the weight of an enormous tree limb.

With a distracted look, Eragon appraised the state of the beds. The few flowers that clung stubbornly to their soil were limp and bedraggled. "It's only more trouble to go around—go ahead and walk through," he directed, and hoisted the other end of the branch onto his shoulder, helping Roran get it into the burn pile.

"I wouldn't worry about getting this into a neat mound if I were you," said a cruel, mocking voice from behind Eragon. He refrained from shuddering, and turned around to face the girl.

"Yes?"

"The arsonists that the guards rounded up earlier were actually Ra'zac, in a disguise that is unnaturally good," Elva stated simply.

"What?!" Energy flowed through the Rider, revitalizing his sore muscles.

"Before you dash off to fight the forces of evil, listen," Elva warned. "The Ra'zac have evolved to hunt humans. They are physically superior to you in your current state." Anger sparked at this, but Eragon doused it before it rose to the surface. What she said was true. "They plan to torch the whole palace before they're slain, so it won't make much difference if these twigs are strewn about or nice and tidy. I suggest that you _get out."_

Eragon shrugged, and shifted on his feet before ordering loudly, "Everyone, grab valuables and leave as quickly as you can. The palace is going up in flames." Roran caught his eye and gave a questioning gaze, but Eragon hid his face. He knew that this would only delay rescuing Katrina. Instead, he told Saphira, _Wait for me here. I'm going to get a few things from my rooms before we get out of here just yet._

_Don't do anything melon headed,_ she cautioned.

Eragon nodded, and pulled strength from the dying vegetation around him. The lives flickering out pained him, but he needed to be at the peak of performance, and if Elva's prediction came true, they would be burnt to a crisp shortly. He barely noticed the shudders and gasps from the people surrounding him at the sudden death of the plant life as he threw his mind out in front of him as a vast web. Members of Du Vangr Gata, who'd become familiar with the contact of his mind lately, pestered him with questions, but he directed them all to Trianna. Eragon noted a magician shielding his mind from him, but Eragon easily thwarted his defenses and discovered that he had covered the Ra'zac with an illusion as they entered the palace. Eragon slew him with one of the killing words, and expanded his range. At last, two alien minds slid under his radar, and Eragon headed in that direction.

As Eragon rounded the corner, he collided with a bloody soldier slumped on the ground. He drew in a sharp breath as he examined the body. Aside from the wound on his sword arm, a peppering of small cuts on his face were surrounded with peculiar burns that Eragon recognized as the effects of SLITHR OIL. Eragon reached out with his mind to touch a healer's, and told them to expect another wave of soldiers. If the Ra'zac could waste SLITHR OIL on this nameless guard, surely there must be a lot. A map of the palace floor and all of its weaknesses and strengths appeared in Eragon's mind as he dashed through the corridors towards his foes. There wasn't much room to maneuver in the hall to come, but just beyond it was a broad alcove that gave enough space to put up a good defense. Even better, that portion was continually bathed in light from every angle, which gave an immense advantage over the Ra'zac. He could feel two strange consciousnesses coming closer as he ran in their direction, but they were coming too fast—they were coming his direction.

Eragon considered his situation: should he lead them closer to the armory only a few yards behind him, or engage them further towards the alcove? To be sure, the armory had plenty of floor space, but also held plenty of potential weapons that could easily be tipped on him or the Ra'zac. Eragon was sure of his reflexes when he was fresh, but after exhausting himself against the Lethrblaka, he couldn't trust them to dodge a heavy suit of armor in time. Besides that, there would be men who didn't possess his elfin abilities. Yes, it would be best to meet them near the alcove.

Eragon put on an extra burst of speed, and rushed around a corner to come face to face with a terrified soldier. Eragon whirled to the side and lashed out with his sword at the Ra'zac pursuing the man, but his sword found no flesh. Eragon winced at the blade's inferiority to that of the Zar'roc: it was thicker, slower, and lost its edge after a few skirmishes. Nevertheless, it was the best sword in Surda, since the elves couldn't provide them with their wondrous weaponry.

As the first Ra'zac skipped back, a second leapt forward with its thin blade raised above its head, then chopped down at Eragon's head, meaning to cleave him from crown to toes. Eragon reversed his sword's path and brought it up to block the swing, and was surprised by the strength of the creature. The Ra'zac swiveled away, but with inhuman speed brought it back up to hack at his left side. Eragon met it in time, but only just. Too late, he remembered that there were two of the fiends in the palace, and flicked his eyes upwards to see the second join the first in the barrage. Eragon gritted his teeth and steeled himself to take on two attackers at once when fate smiled on him unexpectedly. The soldier gutted the second Ra'zac from behind, and sliced away at the thing's head and torso to make sure it was dead. The remaining Ra'zac hissed quietly, and turned to deal with the new threat. That was all Eragon needed to put a deep gash in the upper arm closest to him, which made its owner turn from the soldier to face him again. At the edge of his vision, Eragon noted several more soldiers closing in on their enemy. Eragon sprang over the oncoming men, hoping to get out of the way and enter the Ra'zac's mind. No luck: the Ra'zac didn't follow him, but its mind was well fortified, and allowed no entrance.

Trying a different tactic, Eragon called the air to harden around the Ra'zac, encircling its arms and restricting its movement. The spell taxed him greatly, but it allowed the soldiers to kill it without difficulty. With the danger gone, Eragon could relax.

Sorry that took so long—I don't especially like writing battle scenes. Thanks for all of your reviews!


	5. Chapter 5

As he leaned against the wall, Eragon's eyes closed in contentment and exhaustion. He allowed his mind to rove through the palace corridors in pursuit of any meandering thought that strayed across his path. Eventually, he traced a path back to Saphira, who was waiting impatiently in the courtyard.

_What are you still doing in there? _she asked anxiously. Smoke curled in tight tendrils from her massive nose.

_Taking a well-deserved break,_ Eragon answered tiredly.

_This is no time to rest!_ Saphira scolded him angrily. _Haven't you gotten your things yet? Are you forgetting Elva's prophecy? The palace is aflame!_

_I don't smell anything,_ Eragon replied. Nevertheless, he cracked an eyelid to survey his surroundings with new attention. No scent of burning wood reached his nose, and he couldn't feel any heat that wasn't natural for this southern country. Still, he felt a pang of remorse that he'd forgotten to grab his things as he'd told Saphira he would. The soldier distracted him; that was all. Saphira spoke again:

_It doesn't matter if you can't detect anything right now; you need to get everyone out of there! I see smoke pouring from one of the towers!_

_At once._ Eragon sprang into action once again, and quickly iterated to the men what Saphira had told him. He also made special note of the soldier who'd slain the first Ra'zac before dashing up to his rooms to grab his more valuable possessions. Hastily, he stuffed his scrolls and the miniature of the Menoa Tree in a sack, and ran out to meet his dragon.

Saphira crouched underneath a tree in the midst of people carrying rubble to the burn pile. He met her gaze questioningly, and she ducked her head sheepishly, refusing to answer. Eragon trotted the remaining distance between them and swung onto her back. _What happened?_ he questioned gently.

_It was another illusion,_ she confided softly. _Trianna was showing the other members of Du Vangr Gata how she created the fire._

Eragon breathed deeply and comforted Saphira, the pair creating a pool of calm lost in a torrent of motion around them.

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Roran looked upon the picture his cousin and dragon made and felt a hunger stir within him. _Katrina…_ How he longed to sit with her, quell her fears, dry her tears, and make her happy. He knew that there wasn't even a faint whiff of romance to Eragon and Saphira's relationship, but they reached a degree of intimacy that he, Roran, had found with Katrina. _You took my father and fiancée. How will you make things right? What will you take next?_

With a melancholy sigh, he returned his attention to the particularly stubborn log at his feet.

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Katrina was bored. After the uneventful meeting with the Ra'zac, they had not come back, and left her alone with her deceitful father. She resolutely refused to speak to him, and he extended the same courtesy to her. Katrina initially had spent her time memorizing the terrain of her prison, but it lacked intricacy, and therefore proved to be little challenge. Also, she had devoted many hours to plans of escape, where she fearlessly slew all the Ra'zac guarding her; where Roran swept in to rescue her and assassinate King Galbatorix; where her father unbent his pride enough to forgive her and give his blessing to her marriage. Katrina's happy daydreams grew to be quite elaborate, expanding to include everything as grand as the rise of the Dragon Riders to the insignificant as embroidering cloth napkins in pale yellow thread for her own daughter's dowry in the hazy, distant future.

However, she yearned for real human contact, something no amount of wishing and dreaming could satisfy. As she reclined against the wall, Katrina traced patterns in the air with her newly freed hands, trying to break the monotony. This, too, grew dull, and, spying the thin layer of loose dust and grime at her feet, she transferred her designs to something she could actually see. To her bewilderment, her finger left no imprint on the powder. In fact, it didn't even manage to dislodge a particle of the dirt. Frowning, Katrina used more force, but to no avail. She glanced at her father, but he was turned away from her, ignorant of her antics. Katrina wrestled her bound legs from under her without making too much noise, and tried dragging her heels through the dirt. Nothing.

_Why would dirt remain so stiff?_

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Lying on his bed in the early morning, Eragon inhaled deeply. Tomorrow, he and Roran would make the trek to Helgrind. He wasn't ready.

_Morning,_ Saphira greeted him cheerily.

You are way too… Eragon couldn't even think of a word to describe her: he wasn't a morning person. 

_I believe _perky_ would be a good word there,_ Saphira teased. _Come on, up!_

Eragon blinked the sleep from his eyes and rolled out of his bed onto the floor. _I'm up._ He heard his dragon snort with her peculiar laughter.

_If you're ready to go, then I suggest you look for your cousin and reassure him of his fiancée's well being. He's rather…stressed. _

_Where is he?_

_Doing something dangerous with that hammer of his._ He saw a mental picture of Roran swinging at a stick he'd thrust in the ground.

_I'll go make sure he won't hurt himself, then._

_Good._

Eragon stretched briefly, and picked up his replacement sword—one couldn't be too careful. Closing his door behind him, he grew conscious of voices not far down the hall from him. Eragon dismissed them as idle gossipers, but he couldn't help but hear their conversation as it increased in volume. Still trying to block out the words—it wasn't polite to eavesdrop—he still found that one of the people was the man who'd slain the Ra'zac that had almost succeeded in wounding him yesterday.

"Still, you have got to admit that you deserve a bonus," one said. The other man snorted.

"Yes, you can argue that point until the grass turns purple, but that doesn't mean that I could actually get one," he countered. "The funds are rather low, here, and maybe they would reward me richly for killing the brute, but at present, a full meal is all they can really give me."

"So you're going to let the opportunity go by—that could pay for _both_ fees, and have more to spare."

Now Eragon was curious. He continued walking towards the pair, and when he deemed it to be an appropriate distance, he waved to them.

"Good morning," he said courteously. The men turned to face him, and both returned the greeting.

"You were there," started one man belligerently. His hair was incredibly orange, as was the rest of his skin. Eragon wondered if he'd been cursed, or if this was another strange ethnicity, like Nasuada's dark skin. The man continued: "Helzvog killed that first black terror, and he should get a good reward for his work, shouldn't he?"

Eragon wasn't sure if he heard correctly. "Helzvog?" The second man, who had jet-black hair and soft eyes, nodded. "Did you know that your namesake—"

"—Was the Dwarf God? Yes," he answered quickly. "People often remind me."

Eragon nodded, and commented, "The treasury is a bit low at present. A reward will no doubt be given during peacetime." _If that comes in their lifetime,_ he added mentally.

"Which is exactly what I said," Helzvog said, nodding to his companion. "Come on, Hurat."

Eragon stepped aside to allow Helzvog and Hurat to pass, smiling. _What do you think of them? _he asked Saphira.

_I like Helzvog—he seems fair,_ she replied. _I'm not sure about Hurat, though. What fees was he talking about? _

Eragon shrugged, and continued towards his cousin.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm sorry this took so long, but it was finals week, and now I'm at a Creative Writing camp where they work us into the ground… yeah. Here it is:

When he arrived, Eragon saw that Roran had improved on his stick. Now, instead of breaking when hit with sufficient force, Roran had attached a bag filled with dirt on the end of a rope so that if he didn't hit a specific spot on the post, the sack flew around to hit him. So far, it looked like the bag was winning.

"Would you care for a human opponent?" Eragon asked as he watched the sack strike his cousin's thigh.

"You can hardly call yourself human anymore," Roran said playfully. Eragon winced internally; though Roran voiced it in jest, he couldn't help but feel a barb hidden in the innocent comment. "Even so, I wouldn't mind a break from this…thing."

"What shall my weapon be?" Eragon asked, looking around for something he might use to defend himself.

"Please do me a favor and don't attack me with that sword of yours," Roran said in mock distress. "I'm not nearly as good with my hammer as you are with most weapons. It might be awkward with an axe… though I don't suppose you'd have one lying around anyway."

"Perhaps I'll just use a hammer like you," Eragon suggested after spying one half-hidden beneath a bit of canvas. He hefted it and tested its weight with a few practice swings. He'd never practiced with a hammer before, but decided that the technique couldn't be too much different than a sword, like he was used to. "Let my bones be unbreakable," he muttered in the Ancient Language, invoking his magic. He said the same spell over Roran, but cautioned him. "Don't test the spell. I can only take so much before my strength gives out, and there could still be plenty of bruising." Roran nodded. He understood magic after Eragon had explained it a few days ago.

Eragon took a defensive stance several yards away, and waited for Roran to make the first move. He wasn't confident in his skill, and decided that the best course would be to watch how his cousin wielded the weapon before trying it for himself.

Roran charged him, running with his hammer raised to crush Eragon's shoulder. He pivoted to the side, bringing down his own hammer in the process to smack Roran's hip. To his elfin strength, it was hardly more than a tap, but Eragon knew that it carried more force than he realized. Despite the injury, Roran didn't miss a beat, and turned to land a blow on the shoulder he hadn't been aiming for previously. Eragon grimaced, and understood why Roran kept striking at his upper body: it weakened his offense and threw off his balance. Damaging the opponent's legs did little except inconvenience them.

With this in mind, Eragon switched his stance so that any it would be easier to defend against attacks from above rather than straight on, but left a gap in his defense for a split second. That was all Roran needed. He swept up his hammer and hooked Eragon's own, limiting his movement. With a deft movement, he flipped the weapon up out of his grip and swung up to meet Eragon's face, stopping inches away from his nose.

"Dead," he gasped, panting.

Eragon agreed, and returned the hammer to where he'd found it. "You're certainly someone to be reckoned with on the battlefield."

"I still need practice," Roran protested, but grinned, pleased with the compliment.

"Well, if you ever want a sparring partner, I'd go find a dwarf. He could teach you the finer aspects of the weapon, I'm sure," Eragon suggested. He could've easily bested his cousin if he relied on his superhuman strength, speed, and agility, but preferred not to use those when it was only jest. He lacked the true skill that came from hours of dedication and practice that Roran possessed.

"I can tell that you didn't come down to lock hammers with me, though," Roran said, calling Eragon back to his real reason for coming down to meet him.

"Correct. I thought you might want to see Katrina," Eragon offered. He didn't need acute eyesight to see the light that shone from Roran's eyes in reaction to the sentiment. He instructed Roran to cup his hands, and he filled it with water from his water skin. "Draumr kopa." Immediately, the water blackened, then filled with the image of Katrina, leaning against a background of pure white. No—further inspection proved that her father, Sloan, slumped next to her. Roran's fiancée frowned in contemplation, and then nudged something on the ground with bound feet. Suddenly, she froze, and feigned sleep. A new figure came into the picture: a Ra'zac. It surprised Eragon that he could see it; he must have encountered it during his stay in Dras Leona. He—it—put something down at her feet, probably food and drink. Katrina looked at her meal with interest; then glanced over at her father. She looked up at the Ra'zac inquisitively, and turned her attention to the meal before her, then scooted closer. Here, Eragon ended the spell; he doubted that Roran had any desire to watch his fiancée eat breakfast.

"Ready for tomorrow?" Roran asked Eragon eagerly.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied wearily. "You're sure that you don't want to take anyone else with us?"

Roran smiled and shook his head. "Eragon, you know that we can't afford to take an army, or even a few soldiers with us. Helgrind is accessible only from the air, and Saphira can't carry more than us two."

"I know," Eragon said. "I'm just making sure that _you_ do."

They turned and went to breakfast together.

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As they weaved their way through the maze of hallways in the palace, Roran grit his teeth. He absolutely _hated_ the way Eragon talked down to him—wasn't Roran a year his senior? Still, they were cousins, bound to stick together through it all…


End file.
